The man might not have known that it was Jackson, but he must have surmised from the gorgeous uniform that it was a general of importance.
Harry, with the trained eye of a country boy, saw a rippling movement running among the weeds.

The sharpshooter would reload and fire upon his general from another point.

The second bullet might not miss.
But the second shot did not come.

The marksman, doubtless thinking that another shot was too dangerous a hazard, had retreated into the plain.
General Jackson walked on calmly, inspecting the whole Northern advance, and then returning took up his station on Prospect Hill, where he waited with the singular calmness that was always his, for the fit time to open fire.
The leader of the Army of the Potomac was watching from the other side of the Rappahannock with a terrible eagerness.

The man who had not wished the command of the splendid Union army, who had deemed himself unequal to the task, was now proving the correctness of his own intuitions.